


Bury a Hatchet on Tower Bridge

by WhiteKey



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Bridge fic, F/F, Short One Shot, post 3x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteKey/pseuds/WhiteKey
Summary: Picks up right after 3x08 ends. A short(ish) snippet to make that bridge scene ending feel a little more complete and  tied in to the previous seasons.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	Bury a Hatchet on Tower Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic so I wanted to do something kinda short and sweet. It was supposed to be a 700 word fic - It's now a 1300 word fic. Life's funny like that. I hope to be writing more in the future so stay tuned. 
> 
> Until then - enjoy!

**Tower Bridge - London**

It feels… _wet_. Not the wet you’re thinking of - not the axe wielding wet Rome will forever be. A less violent or harsh wet. A less heavy wet.

It doesn’t ooze out of a man gasping for his last breaths. It hangs in the air like a gnat, something barely visible to the human eye, but a lingering presence that becomes nearly impossible to ignore.

Eve feels it. She watches patrons walk by. _Do they feel it too? Would they understand it if they could?_ She knows without a doubt Villanelle feels it. She would be lying if she said she could clearly make out the girl's expression from the dimly lit distance between them, but she knows- she’s always had a sixth sense when it comes to Villanelle. It’s laughably ironic if one were to consider just how little either of them actually know about anything in this moment. 

But that’s love, isn’t it? A clarity in the other’s blindspots. Or sometimes even a shared blindspot that can only be dealt with together.

Even though she would be content to watch Eve’s squinty face try to figure her out forever, Villanelle takes her first step to lessen the distance - then Eve takes hers. It’s awkward, sure, but one step after another they lessen the gap. Then, they are right back where they started on the bridge only this time wrapped in each other’s embrace. The emotional dam that's been struggling to withstand Eve's flood of emotions all night finally falls, and the truth comes out with such genuity that all former denials become imperceptible.

“I love you.”

Eve uses the cold night’s air to justify her clipped words that are nearly drowned out by heavy (and fairly shaky) breaths. Nonetheless, it’s audible. The words couldn’t be worth more to Villanelle if Eve had just shouted them from the rooftop. She tightens her embrace then holds it, reveling in a new found intimacy as she nuzzles into Eve’s warmth. For Villanelle, there is only one word on her mind: _home_.

She pulls back from the embrace just enough to see Eve’s face. 

“I know.” The warmth of her breath reaches Eve. She’s processing, thinking. She's a loud thinker, something that Villanelle still hasn’t decided if she likes or not. It’s loud enough to make her head pound, god only knows what Eve feels. Alas, a thought prevails from the sea of roaring internal dialogue.

“You know, but you still think we should walk out of each other’s lives... for what? Forever?” Eve is faced with the opposite problem. Villanelle’s thoughts are quiet, they’re precise and deliberate and always just a little bit out of the realm of predictability. It truly is one of the things that Eve loves about her, even if it drives her absolutely mad. Knowing someone is one thing, understanding them is another.

“ I don't _want_ to walk away, but I'm not going to try to make your decisions for you. Not again.” A bittersweet smile dances across her lips and somehow, in that moment, the shadow of Rome is big enough to loom over Tower Bridge. 

Eve looks into Villanelle's eyes as if they hold the answer to a question she has yet to ask. 

"What do you want, Oksana?" 

Villanelle stiffens at the sound of the name that she hasn't heard since Russia. She notices how different it sounds on Eve's tongue, said as if the name were a fragile thing that would break if not used with care.

"Nice life. Cool flat. Fun job. I want to watch movies with you... forever." she pushes that last word out with a humorless laugh. 

"But I need you to want those things too. I need you to-" she stops herself. _need_ , such a forceful word.

"I want you to have a good life, and I want to have as nice of a life as I can without fucking that up for you." The shadow of Rome, the ache of a shoulder, the end of a tragic love story - whatever title you think fits best - it is something that so often consumes Eve; it makes her ache in pain, heartbreak, and humiliation. Even now, it still stings a bit. 

In this moment, Villanelle is holding a light to the shadow she once casted upon Eve. She's far too aware that she'll never be able to take the pain away from her completely. Hurt doesn't work like that. It can't be taken away; it can only be given back to the person who inflicted it in the first place. Been there. Done that. While she may not be able to take Eve's pain away, she hopes she can lessen it. Nothing would stop her from trying.

Villanelle is lost in her thoughts without realizing it, something she would later start blaming Eve's influence in, but for now she remains clueless to the way Eve has been looking at her. If Villanelle hadn't been so lost in her head fighting Eve's shadows (and truthfully maybe even a few of her own) she might have noticed the fondness in Eve's eyes or the way she had leaned in to kiss her before the distance between them was closed and soft lips met her own.

The kiss holds a certain excitement and novelty, yet it brings with it the comfort of something so familiar. Of course it can only be defined by a paradox.

It's not as rushed nor chaotic as the last time something like this happened between them. Eve finds her hands cupping Villanelle's face and Villanelle eventually finds her way to Eve's hair with one hand while sliding the other down to rest just above her hip. The moment is held so close between the two, time itself can't reach it. 

Finally they break apart, but not in the violent way they have before. They remain in reach of one another, neither bleeding out, neither feeling betrayed or regretful. A comfort settles over them as they rest their forheads together, both taking fairly heavy breaths that reach and warm the other. 

“I love you too… by the way.” Eve pushes forward into Villanelle’s warmth, her face pressed into the wool of that ridiculously big yellow coat; she wouldn't want it any other way.

“I know”. Eve's words are muffled as she refuses to lift her head from the shoulder she is leaning into. Villanelle lets out a light laugh at that. Just maybe the delicate words that caused the fall of Rome hold the power to raise it up from its ashes.

Pedestrians walk by, the moon shines brighter, and the stars fade into the night sky. The world moves on and time goes by as Eve and Villanelle cling to each other, greedily dragging the last moment into the next until Eve hesitantly lets it go. 

“What now?”

Villanelle closes her eyes to take one last deep inhale before letting her hold around Eve let up. They both dread the loss of warmth from the embrace. Though, one hand quickly finds a slightly larger one to hold, still maintaining a physical togetherness that neither one of them is willing to part with just yet. 

“Do you like turkey?” If only words could describe the look on Eve's face when she hears Villanelle say _this_.

“ You have got to be joking.”

“ It’s not my fault Carolyn had to bring it up mid execution. So, was that a yes?”

Eve laughs and Villanelle breaks into a goofy grin knowing she's the reason why Eve's laughing. It's a simple happiness neither of them have had much luck in experiencing until recently. 

They walk away together tonight, neither turning back. Neither have a reason left to think of the past. The future is where they’re going after all. Though, if they had taken a glance behind them, they might have seen a hatchet, or maybe it was an axe, buried on Tower Bridge that night. Here’s to hoping neither of them is foolish enough to walk back and trip over it.

**fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Oh! Almost forgot, I'm on twitter now - @WKFics  
> Drop in, say hi if you want, I'm fun I promise (I think)
> 
> That's all folks!


End file.
